Showing posts with label personality disorder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personality disorder. Show all posts

Wednesday, 1 June 2016

My Year Without Self-Harm

Yesterday marked me reaching one year without self-harm. This is an anniversary that seemed distant for eleven months, overwhelmingly difficult for the entire twelve months, and yet I was determined to reach it. It’s not that a year is the longest I’ve ever managed. Nor can know for sure that I will never self-harm again. But it was important for me, as a personal kind of challenge, to be a year without incident by this summer. I set my mind to it and, no matter what occurred, and a lot has happened over that time, I didn’t want to use my usual methods to cope with it.

You may or may not struggle with self-harm. There may be other coping strategies you use that you find equally unhelpful, but familiar; whether that be overeating when stressed, retreating from the world when afraid or drinking to numb your emotions. I would like to share five things that have helped me stick to my promise of reaching my year’s milestone. I hope that, wherever you’re at, they can help you in some way too.

Count the moments, not the days.

I made the mistake, early on, of noting what date would signify my year without self-harming. Whilst this was helpful so that I knew where I was heading, it made it more difficult day-to-day. To know that I still had months to go was disheartening when I was struggling. To look to a date in the future also took away from the achievement of not self-harming on single, difficult days. If you’ve used a means of coping for a number of years, it becomes addictive and automatic. Therefore, it’s such an achievement when you manage a moment without it. This moment should be counted.

Do the opposite of what you want to do.

When everything in my mind was telling me that I needed to hurt myself, either as a means of coping with stress or as a way of “punishing” myself, the biggest way I could choose not to act on those thoughts was to do the very opposite of what they were telling me to do.

If I felt like I couldn’t cope with stress, I would continue to pursue what was making me anxious. Of course, that isn’t to say that if you genuinely don’t have the resources to manage, you should put yourself in impossible situations. But I know that stress often occurs for me in situations that are manageable, albeit difficult.

Secondly, if I want to punish myself or attack myself physically, the very best way of counteracting that is to do something nice for myself. If I have a tough therapy session, I’ll take myself to a coffee shop for coffee and cake. If I want to use my hands to damage my body, I will use them to paint my nails or rub in moisturiser. If I want to withdraw from positive opportunities, I will leave the house and intentionally find something I will enjoy.

Stepping back from the intensity of my emotions by acting opposite to them gives the space needed to find a helpful resolution and to consider alternative options. It tells my body that there are numerous ways of responding which don’t have to involve self-harm.
Ask if there is another way of seeing the situation.

I am prone to very black and white thinking. If I struggle to speak, I’m a “failure.” If life isn’t how I want it to be, I “need to die.” I think in extremes of good and bad, right and wrong. But the world is many shades of grey and filled with “fairly goods” and “not quite rights.” If you aim for a situation to go a certain way and it doesn’t, it’s easy to feel desperately disappointed. Rather than feel bogged down by that, I ask myself what could have made it better, what may have got in the way, and also consider what was positive about a situation.

I have had therapy sessions where I have been silent for thirty out of the sixty minutes. I get frustrated that I am losing time I could be utilising. I get angry at myself for not doing something so seemingly easy as speak. But if I have only been silent for thirty minutes, that’s still half an hour I used well and, if I manage to turn a session around at the end, that’s taken strength. Even if I’ve needed to write my therapist a letter explaining my prolonged silence, I’ve done something proactive and helpful. There is something positive to take from every situation. Therefore, just as there may be reasons, in my mind, to harm myself, there are reasons to treat myself kindly.

Remember that thoughts aren’t necessarily facts.

“I am a failure.” “I am better off dead.” “I always screw things up.” “Everyone hates me.” These are thoughts that enter my head on, probably, a daily basis and that make the temptation of self-harming all the more appealing. However, it doesn’t take many moments of talking to someone else about these thoughts before they begin challenging them. “What about the degree you gained?” “What about the goals you want to achieve?” “What about the success of your writing or artwork?” “What about your family?”
I treat every thought as if it is factual and accurate, and then respond accordingly. This isn’t helpful. I could have the thought that I’m a millionaire, but if I act as if that is true, I would have bailiffs on to me in a matter of days. Acting on our thoughts has consequences, so it is really important that we check the facts. Is what I am thinking based on evidence and fact? Or is it personal opinion and wishful thinking?

If I challenge my negative thoughts with alternatives, which are factual, there is lesser likelihood that I will want to self-harm. This isn’t to say that I don’t screw things up, but that there are times when I do things well, which deserve just as much attention in my thought-life.

Don’t use the past as a reflection of what your future will become.

There are numerous, substantial events from my years growing up that have a huge effect on how I feel about myself. I blame myself for situations in which I was the victim and I remember cruel words bullies and abusers said to me. I often think that is how my life will continue to look into the future, thus leaving me desperate and wanting to take it out on myself.

However, just because I have a past that is painful and people have hurt me, it doesn’t mean that my future will look the same. I get to decide what I’m worth and my actions demonstrate that to others. There is no way of knowing what difficulties any of us will face in the future, but that is independent of where we have come from. We can choose what we make of the years to come, the amount of value we place on ourselves and what we are willing to put up with from others.

I’m hopeful of another year without self-harm. Using the above methods has helped me immensely, as well as considering what the pros and cons of hurting myself would be. This is a day-to-day process for me, but it is possible to succeed. Every moment is worth counting.


Wednesday, 18 May 2016

A Little Mentally Ill

It takes a lot for me to ask for help. Exactly three years ago, when I had completed my fifth week of working for a mental health charity, having hidden how much I was struggling with my own health, I was admitted to hospital for what would become a ten-week stay. I was 25, with no work history and no relationships to speak of, but I had a recently acquired degree, so I was so determined to do what I felt was expected of me as an adult. To do so, I suppressed my own needs, masking desperation with eagerness. I wanted other people to see that I was a productive human being. I did so at the cost of my mental health.


In the three years that have followed my hospital stay, I have had other, shorter admissions, crisis interventions, two years of therapy and at least fortnightly appointments with my community mental health team. I’m 28. Definitely an adult, but still feeling like a failure.

When I heard my care coordinator was leaving, the me who still has such a desire to appear well and capable decided that I could try to manage without support. After all this time, surely I should be able to manage living? With our last appointment being tomorrow, I was ready to try and support myself. Within days of making this decision, it became evident that it wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact, it would be dangerous. On a daily basis, I still struggle with keeping myself alive. I struggle not to harm myself. I struggle not to curl up into a ball and give up on life. “But you should be able to do this by now.”

In trying to look like what I think an adult should be, I push aside my mental health diagnoses. If I’m not able to work, if I can count my friends on no hands and if I’m reliant on regular support to keep myself alive, I can’t see myself as a worthwhile individual. I tell myself that my poor mental health needs must be hidden if I’m to do anything with my life. But this is where it went wrong before.


This week, I asked for help. I phoned my care coordinator ahead of our final appointment and told her that I need to have regular support in place for the foreseeable future. She told me that my psychiatrist had said he was “concerned” about me being without support. I can’t manage my day-to-day life without the guidance of mental health professionals. I’m not working. I have no salary. It feels like failure.

For the last eleven years, my life has been filled with the ups and downs of mental illness. It has seen suicide attempts, repeated self-harm, disordered eating and desperate sadness. At times, it has been unbearable. I feel so indescribably sad that I’m not able to do what I would like to do. But my decision over these last few days has been to accept who I am right now. I am a person with mental health issues. I don’t want to be defined by them. but they contribute to who I am and what I can do. To accept myself is to accept the state of my mental health.


It isn’t a sign of weakness to ask for help. Though my voice shook as I said I needed support, I felt empowered. It is strength to say that I can’t do this on my own. It’s strength to take who I am right now and still make it through a day. It’s strength to craft a story for my life that includes the challenges that mental illness brings. We are strong.


Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Why I Choose to Live

Over much of the last ten years, suicide has been a very real option for me. When my mood has been at its lowest and I haven’t been able to see ahead because of the fog of depression, life, as clichéd as it sounds, hasn’t felt as if it is worth living. After attempts at taking my life, when medical professionals tried to keep me safe from myself, I was angry. I was angry that they were taking the choice away from me. I asked myself what right they had to make me live when they weren’t the ones living my life.

But today it is different. There remain times when I see ending my life as a means of ending my distress. I still get overwhelmed at the prospect of living for decades to come. Perhaps that will always be the case for someone who has seen suicide as an available option. What I have seen recently, however, are also the reasons to be hopeful. They are the little glimmers of life, the moments I laugh without thought, the fulfilment that comes with doing something I enjoy. Instead of having a list a mile-long of why I want to die, there are greater reasons for me to live.


I choose to live because:

There is the possibility of change and of progress.

I can be with the people I love.

I can see the world and explore new places.

I can read books and listen to music, old and new.

I can help to make the world a better place through my unique perspective.

I can have new experiences – meet new people, go to gigs and events, and do what scares me.

I can use my experiences, rather than wasting them, in order to support other people.

I can make my life what I want it to be.


We all have different experiences and reasons for the choices that we make. I don’t know what your life is like. You may be content, you may be muddling through, unsure what you’re doing, or you may be like me, wondering why you should live. What I do know, though, is that what I saw as permanent has so often been fleeting. Things change. We can utilise the very worst of life and make it count for something. That reality is my reason for living.